


If You Hadn't Stopped Him

by Semi_problematic



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 07:37:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10962684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semi_problematic/pseuds/Semi_problematic
Summary: What happened after Lukas threw the gun into the water.





	If You Hadn't Stopped Him

Philip pressed his face close to Lukas' neck, letting out shallow breaths. He had a gun pointed at him. He could've been shot.. and Lukas saved him. Lukas killed someone, god, there was so much death and blood and Philip is sure he's forgotten how to breathe, everything is messy in his brain and he can't think. Oh, he doesn't dare close his eyes because that's when he sees it, the blood, slowly flowing towards him, he even hears the thumps of the bodies hitting the floor if it's quiet enough. It won't stop playing in his mind, he can't stop it. He almost died. When did he start shaking? What's that noise? It sounds like talking, but not like the yelling he had heard in the cabin, it sounds like a boy, a boys who's lips give chapped kisses and his hands give shoves. A boy who held a gun. A boy who saved him. Lukas.

Philip pulled away, keeping his hands bunched up tight in Lukas' shirt. "W-what?" Philip felt like he was yelling, but he couldn't tell, all he could hear was the thumping of his heart in his ears and the faint sounds of Lukas talking.

"We need to go." Lukas muttered, pulling Philip back against his chest, looking over his shoulder. "Someone could find us and think we did it."

"He's dead?" Philip asked. How could Lukas keep running? How could Lukas even think or talk right now? They just killed someone and nearly died, and Lukas just wants to run.

"Yeah, I killed him, but we don't know of someone heard the gun shots and called the police." Lukas rambled, tugging Philip towards the motorcycle. 

Hours ago they were riding around. Hours ago they were kissing and feeling and loving and now they're running. Why can't Philip ever stop running? He wanted his mom, but he didn't think he could get to her, he couldn't run to her and Lukas certainly wouldn't ride him into the city. City. Bus. He could take a bus. It'll be slow and cold and he wouldn't be running, no one could find him. He'd be fine. No one from the cabin. Cabin. Shooting, yelling, blood, death. 

"Philip!" 

Why was Lukas yelling? 

"We need to go, come on." 

Philip felt a slap to the back of his head and he assumed it was Lukas. Unless it was the shooter. Was there a shooter? They all seemed to be pulling guns on each other. No, he's dead, they're all dead. Death. 

Philip jetted away from Lukas and bent over, throwing up anything he could. He didn't want to loon at it and thankfully it was too dark to. His throat and stomach were on fire, scratching and clawing at his insides, his thoughts pounding in his brain like his heart beat. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, running his fingers through his hair.

"Hey." 

Lukas was talking again, but talking here's ringing like there was in the cabin. Ringing like a phone. They should tell Helen. No, Lukas said no they can't, they're fine Lukas says they're fine, he killed a guy. The guy. Lukas is a killer. He beat a man's head in, the boy who shoved Philip away only to pull him close killed a man with those same hands and he still wants it. Does that mean Philip wants to get killed? When the gun was to his head he didn't want it but maybe not he does. He wants to sleep. Sleep sounds nice.

"Philip, just climb on my bike, we really gotta go." 

Lukas sounded annoyed, Philip would be annoyed too. He wasn't though, just dizzy, and confused. The corners of his vision were blurring, thumping in and out of focus to the beat of his heart. Heartbeat. Something he has that those people didn't have. 

Cold. Philips hands were touching something cold, it almost shocked him when he touched it. Metal. Like a gun. Like a pan. Death. 

Lukas hands were hot around his waist, burning his outsides just like his insides. "Please." 

Lukas sounded tired. Philip could understand that. Were those men tired? Did they want to go home and sleep? Philip guessed they were sleeping, in a way, in a sick, twisted, way. God, Philip was downplaying death by making it seem normal like sleeping. He was horrible. He deserved to die. 

He bumped his knee against something hard. Hours ago his knees were bumping against a pretty boy with secrets behind his lips and now his legs are hitting cold metal. Hard. Like the floor he was laying against when the shaft of a gun was pointed at him.

"Philip, put your legs on either side." Lukas was talking quieter now, like Philip was. Was Lukas scared, too? He didn't seem scared. 

Warmth enveloped Philips hands and suddenly they were holding onto cool metal. Handle bars. The thumping slowed down. He felt Lukas guiding his leg over the side of the motorcycle and he felt weak. Philip was sure that if Lukas hadn't been there he would've collapsed. Like the bodies. Death. Philip felt sick again but he swallowed it down.

His hands weren't touching the metal anymore, now it was just air flowing through his fingers. Blood flowing through veins and over dusty wooden floors. 

The bike shifted and Philip was praying that it was moving and it wasn't just his world tilting. Warmth touched his ice cold hands and guided them around something hard. Lukas. He was holding Lukas. A loud sound erupted in the woods, echoing like the gun shots. A loud pop. He tightened his arms around Lukas and Lukas rubbed his arm. 

"We're okay." He yelled.

Philip didn't believe him, he didn't think Lukas believed it either. Maybe they were both trying to convince themselves that it's just some nightmare. Tomorrow they'll wake up in cool beds with sunlight streaming through their windows and no recollection of anything that night. But warmth. Warm kisses, warm touches, suddenly Philip prayed this wasn't a dream.

They began to move, Philips legs dragging against the grass. Lukas tapped his leg and he lifted them up, resting them on a bar of the morocycle. They sped up, the wind rushing through his hair. Helmet. He isn't wearing his helmet. What if Lukas didn't want him to wear it? What if Lukas didn't want him? Philip closed his eyes, tight, memories flooding his mind.

Loud gunshots, warm lips, jagged breathing and thumping of bodies. As bad as it was, Philip prayed the fiery trail left by Philips hand wasn't a dream, even if what happened after was a nightmare.


End file.
